Letters
by MaybeThere'sHope
Summary: It's late summer 1945. Alec enlisted in the Air Force shortly after Pearl Harbor. He sent Magnus a letter for every day he's been away. But it's been 8 months since the last letter came. Is he okay? Or is he not coming home? AU/AH. Mature content.
1. That Last Kiss

**Hello everyone! Well here's a little one-shot for you. It was kind of meant as a cure for my writer's block concerning MLG. This is AU, and is in no way affiliated with MLG or any of my other stories. But that should be blatantly obvious.**

**I don't own the characters, just the plot/situations. All praise be to Cassie.**

**Warning: there is a racist remark or two in here, but please know that I was simply trying to keep with the time period and I in no way mean any disrespect to anyone. I love you all!**

**This story was Beta'd by the ever amazing StarryOwlEyes. Go check out her stuff, it is simply breathtaking :)**

**If you want a song to listen to, PLEASE listen to Billie Holiday: Pennies From Heaven. It totally got me in the mood to write this.**

**Onward! Bring your tissues!**

For nearly three years, he'd received seven letters every Wednesday. One written on each day of the week, and all sent in a bundle whenever the weekly express came. Sometimes the mail truck didn't come, and the next Wednesday he would receive fourteen letters. The latter seven would all hold several lines of apologies about how the roads were treacherous and it was hard for the postman to reach camp. One time, they'd said that the postman had been found beheaded in a gully, and they'd had to procure a replacement. But the letters always got here; there was one for each day they'd been apart. He'd cherished every single word on every line of every page, read them until the ink would run together in his tired eyes and he couldn't make out the script any longer.

But the letters had stopped months ago.

He'd tried to tell himself it was just another problem with the post, and that his letters would get here eventually. A week went by, and he didn't think much of it. Then two weeks, then three, then a month without a word. He began to question things, but always stopped himself short of thinking the unimaginable. In those first weeks, he was still capable of convincing himself that it was just a fluke. The letters had never failed him, and they weren't about to start now. His Alec would find a way to tell him everything was okay.

His Alec.

But now, those comforting thoughts were less than dissipated air in his heart. Today is August 6, 1945. Magnus picked up one of the many stacks of letters and pulled out the last one he received, reading a few lines here and there.

_January 27, 1945_

_We received word that the Russians took Auschwitz today. We are getting closer to victory, which means I am getting closer to you. _

_Sometimes, when it rains here, the sky turns the pale green of your eyes, and my heart yearns to see the smile I remember residing in them. _

_The post here near the border is getting shoddy. I apologize in advance for any lateness in my correspondence. Always know that my word will get to you, somehow. Remember that, and keep my heart safe inside your soul, for I am empty here, having left it with you._

_I love you._

That sentiment closed every single correspondence from the first to the last. It had yet to become monotonous, however. Every time Magnus read those three words from the pages, sometimes in Alec's customary elegant hand, sometimes scrawled hastily in fear of some interruption, they never failed to hit home in his heart. He knew Alec loved him, and he loved Alec, even if the world said it was wrong and sick. What did they know of love? They couldn't recognize it when it was right in front of them.

There were hundreds of other letters just like the last one, and he pulled them out every day. He would select one at random and read through the sentences haphazardly, since he had most of them memorized by now. His long, delicate fingers would caress the worn paper, trying to soak up whatever of his lover that was left behind. When he was satisfied, or had grown weary with months-long heartache, he put them away beneath his chest of drawers in his small apartment. He made sure they were hidden and safe, threw on his shoes, tightened his suspenders, and whisked out the door.

Magnus attended the local college, studying history simply because his mother had always called him an old soul. He was 24 years old, but he hadn't seen her since she'd packed him up with what was left of their money and sent him away from the poverty in Indonesia. He had been 16, and she told him to do what he could to save up and educate himself. Knowledge was power, and ultimately freedom. So, he'd worked himself to the bone on the wharfs of South Carolina, saving up enough pennies to take a few classes each semester, and buy books.

* * *

><p>He was 19 and Alec 17 when they met in the commons one late summer day. Magnus had been shuffling by on his way to a class on Medieval warfare, and wasn't paying attention. Books and papers went flying, and the two nearly clashed skulls in their hurry to retrieve their belongings. But the moment their eyes locked, Magnus suddenly understood what destiny was. It was ocean blue eyes and a tight, blushing smile. It was jet-black hair coming loose from its pomaded style, and casting late afternoon shadows across high angelic cheekbones. It was beautiful.<p>

"Sorry about that," he said, shoving his books under his arm and holding out a hand to help the boy up.

"No, no! I…should really pay attention. Uncle says I spend way too much time in the clouds. Must be why he's proud that I want to be a pilot," the boy rambled. He finally shut himself up when he saw Magnus' smirk spreading.

"You're a little young for college, aren't you?" Magnus inquired, hoping it was only barely, or that he was mistaken.

"Well, yes. I'm seventeen. But I help my Uncle now and again with various errands and the like," he said cordially, standing up straighter. Magnus thought he might be trying to appear larger or more formidable. It was cute, considering he was rather slight for his tall frame. As an afterthought or explanation, he added, "My uncle is Professor Starkweather. Do you know him?"

Yes, Magnus knew him. "I'm actually heading to his Medieval studies class right now," Magnus said, trying to suppress the giddy smile that was threatening to break forth.

"Oh! Well, now you have a companion for the journey," the boy intoned cheerfully. A half second later, he must have realized what he said, because his high cheekbones took on an impossibly deep shade matching some of the early changing oak leaves. "Uh, I'm Alexander, by the way. But you can call me Alec." Again, he seemed to reconsider the way his statements would be received. "Everyone does," he added hastily.

Magnus smiled warmly, trying to control the fluttering in his stomach that the boy's tentative smile induced. "Magnus," he returned, holding out his hand again to shake. As soon as their fingertips touched, both felt a spark that couldn't have been anything but destiny.

* * *

><p>It was hard, and awkward at times, revealing their deeper feelings for one another. After all, in 1941 there wasn't much public, readily available precedence for two men feeling this way about one another. Sometimes they would brush fingertips, or elbows, or shoulders when they walked down the pathways on campus. Alec was still in high school, but he got out after half a day to work with his Uncle. He would sit in the front corner of the lecture hall, and every now and then would slyly turn to catch Magnus' eyes on him and not on the professor.<p>

The two grew inseparable, sharing penny shakes at Taki's Diner on warm Saturdays, and cruising in Alec's father's old Plymouth. Once, when they had parked out by the docks in the quiet twilight of a cool November evening, Alec grabbed Magnus' hand and twined their fingers. Magnus' heart nearly burst at the gesture, and his head darted around to make sure they were alone. There was no telling what small Southern townsfolk would say about such a sight. But they were nestled in a deserted lot; it seemed there was no one for miles in each direction.

Magnus relaxed into Alec's side, their shoulders nudging together, and causing that ever-present spark that seemed to make itself known every time they touched. When Magnus felt Alec's body move away from him, his breath hitched, thinking they'd gone too far. But he noticed Alec was turning to face him, a serious look taking over his angelic features.

"Magnus, what is this that we have?" he asked bluntly. Magnus had come to find that an endearing quality in the boy. Whenever something was on his mind, he came right out with it.

"I'm not sure. I mean, I feel a…certain way about you…" he began, not really knowing how to phrase his response. This was entirely new to both of them.

"And I, you. Magnus, I…I like holding hands with you. I like your eyes when you see me. They get very bright and sometimes they glow in the dark." Magnus, growing bashful, looked down. His heart did a double flip-flop when he felt Alec's gentle fingertips lift his chin, urging him to keep eye contact. "And I like the electricity between us whenever I touch you. Do you feel it? Tell me you do," he pleaded, as if Magnus could answer in the negative, as if it were possible.

"I do," he said earnestly, feeling so lost and so found, so high and so grounded that he wanted to cry out. What _was_ this feeling he felt? "Alec, I think I…" but he couldn't put it to words.

"I love you," came the short and blunt statement from Alec's lips. As soon as the words drifted into the air between them, Alec sucked his bottom lip in, chewing on it self-consciously and casting his eyes down to their entwined hands. For a moment, Magnus was completely speechless. This was all kinds of wrong. Two men didn't feel this way about each other. It was blasphemy; at least, that's what they'd been taught their entire lives. But why, then, did it feel like the world shifted into its rightful position as soon as the three words began to sink in? Why did it feel like coming home, sitting here in the night, serenaded by the crickets and the low hum of the radio? It could only be because it _was_ right. This, what he felt, was the most right thing in his life.

"I love you too, Alec," he returned, and those blue eyes shot up to his so fast, he thought they'd get whiplash. All at once, he felt Alec's grip tighten on his hands and it had the same effect on his heart. His breath hitched again like before, but this time it was in pure anticipation, the feeling one gets when standing at a gigantic precipice, fighting the urge to just let go and leap. But it seemed he wouldn't be leaping alone.

"Magnus…" Alec began in a whisper, his body moving ever so slightly in the direction of the passenger side of the bench seat. His hands gripped Magnus' a fraction tighter.

"Alec…" Magnus returned, following his lead, somewhat of his own accord. His body didn't seem to need any prodding; it was pulling them closer on its own. Good thing, since his mind was in about a million places and yet completely focused on Alec's ocean eyes. It seemed blue and green were going to collide when at the last second…

His eyes slipped shut and he felt soft, pliant lips brush his with the slightest of caresses, fleeting and light. They both sucked in a strangled breath at the contact, pulling apart no more than an inch to gaze into each other's eyes once more. Magnus felt Alec's hands leave his own, snaking up to cradle the back of his neck, pulling him close again. Their lips met full on this time, dry but pleading. Magnus' heart was so far gone, he was afraid it would beat out of his chest. He found his hands worrying Alec's hips, sliding tentatively inside the thick leather jacket he wore all the time now that the weather had cooled.

The kisses stayed chaste that night, the furthest step being a graze of the tip of a tongue on a swollen bottom lip. They continued this way for hours, serenaded by Billie Holiday's sultry alto, the smooth notes of Pennies From Heaven filling the interior of Alec's father's car.

* * *

><p>Their encounters were many after that first kiss, and they progressed to more sensual levels including sliding, massaging tongues and wandering fingers kneading and stroking through thin fabric, but they never went further than that. After all, they were moving fast as it was, and they had no precedent to go on for their "relationship" concerning levels of intimacy. Magnus knew he wanted to be intimate with Alec someday, and Alec had expressed the same, but they were allowing the pace to continue languidly. They thought they had all the time in the world.<p>

And then, a month later, there was tragedy in Hawaii. They'd heard it on the radio, so many men dying in the early morning attack, some still unaccounted for. They'd thought the US had squeaked by without taking part in the big European war for power, but here it was, in their own backyard. But, oddly enough, that wasn't the most heartbreaking day of Magnus' life. No.

The most heartbreaking day of his life was two weeks later, on December 23, 1941. That was Alexander Lightwood's eighteenth birthday.

And he enlisted, bent on doing his duty for his country.

At 20, and also being a college student, Magnus had obligations that rendered him safe from taking part in the barbaric war that was raging overseas. But Alec had always had a dutiful, fighting bone deep within him. His father had fought in the Great War, his great-grandfather in the Civil War. He had been raised patriotic, and no one attacked his country and got away scot-free.

So, the next day, Magnus and Alec had a tearful, hugging goodbye at the train station. Alec was being transported to New York, where he would then be shipped off to Warsaw. There couldn't be a worse place to go at the moment, but Alec put on a brave face.

"Be strong, Magnus," he said into his ear as they embraced on the platform, Alec's sister Isabelle standing a few feet away, already having had her tearful goodbyes. "I'll come back to you, I promise." And with that, he leaned back to look Magnus straight in the eyes for a good long minute. Magnus wanted _so bad_ to place his lips against those soft pale ones, to feel their breath mingle one last time, but alas, they were on a crowded platform. It was impossible. So Alec settled for another tight embrace, both of them fighting back the wetness that threated to spill over unchecked. They parted, and Magnus watched as Alec climbed the step into the waiting train car. One last look behind him, and the engine pulled him away.

Magnus felt Isabelle touch his hand, pulling it into her own. "I know you have…more with him," she said. He looked at her incredulously, but relaxed at the look in her eyes. It was kind and unwavering. "I don't care. As long as someone loves my brother, he'll be safe," she said.

* * *

><p>"Dirty Jap!"<p>

The exclamation pulled Magnus back to the present with a vengeance. Not that he wasn't used to it by now, however. He was half Indonesian, and his Asian features simply marked him as the enemy. Shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the college had asked him to provide proof of his non-Japanese heritage. It had been a month-long ordeal, but finally through the immigration office, he obtained his birth records, certifying him as half Indonesian and half Dutch and thus saving him from being shipped off to the containment camps in California. He couldn't blame them; America had become quite paranoid of those who in any way resembled the race that had rained destruction upon them and taken so many unsuspecting troops.

The days passed in a numb kaleidoscope of classes and work at the wharf, but it did nothing to relieve the constant thought of Alec from Magnus' mind. Eight months and no word. He'd resigned himself to the fact that he would never, ever get that last kiss.

Isabelle had tried to comfort him in the meantime, telling him the news she heard occasionally on the radio. For a while, both her brothers were in Europe fighting for the freedom of the oppressed. Alec's middle sibling, Jace, turned eighteen 6 months after his older brother and had eagerly been deployed to England to fly alongside the R.A.F. Both brothers, it seemed, liked it up in the clouds. However, in December of '43, Jace's P-51 fighter was shot down over Germany. The day his spare uniform, belongings, and tags arrived at the Lightwood home was the day Magnus thought Isabelle would break.

However, the girl had a lot more fight in her than he gave her credit for, and she ended up being the one who kept him going most of the time. Sometimes, he shared Alec's letters with her and they would smile over some of the antics his battalion would get into on uneventful nights. Sometimes the letters were more ominous, speaking of fallen comrades and his misery and sorrow upon hearing about Jace's death. But in every single one, he promised he'd be home, and he told Magnus he loved him. And Alec's belongings hadn't arrived in a plain box like Jace's yet. That and Isabelle's encouragement had kept Magnus going about his daily routines for a long while now.

When Magnus finally arrived to his class on the Roman Empire, he noticed a strange dynamic about the room. The entire lecture hall of students was gathered tightly up front, surrounding the professor's small AM radio. He walked cautiously up to the crowd, staying as silent and unassuming as possible so as not to invite more racist jabs. He found a nice boy whom he'd talked to once or twice, standing on the periphery, and decided to approach him.

"Simon, what's going on?" he asked quietly.

"Man!" Simon whisper-yelled. "We bombed Japan! Completely wiped out an entire city! They'll have to shut their traps now!" he said with glee. And as Magnus listened in to the broadcast, he found it was true. The US military had dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan, leveling the city. It sounded horrid and barbaric, but he couldn't help but think it was the beginning of the final end. Maybe Japan would surrender and it would all finally be _over_.

And surrender they did. It took another atomic bomb on Nagasaki three days later, but Japan finally gave up arms. World War II was finally over. Magnus smiled for the first time in almost a year that day. He tried his damnedest not to, but he let the thought slip in that maybe, somewhere, Alec was still alive and now that everything was done, he could come home.

That thought started fading after the first week. By the second week, it was growing transparent. By the third and fourth weeks, the numbness had returned and he resigned himself once again to the fact that _should have taken that last kiss_.

Now, he'd never have the chance.

**Well, I hope you…enjoyed…that. Please Please Please Please Please review? I really want to know what you guys think. Like, seriously, I'll reply to EVERY SINGLE REVIEW I get on this. **

**Also, it's not over. There's one more chapter, which will be up tomorrow afternoonish. Love you all!**


	2. More Than You Know

**Okay guys. Sorry sorry sorry for not posting this yesterday like I promise. I know I'm a bad girl. But blame StarryOwlEyes and her very helpful constructive criticsm. This chapter wasn't up to snuff really (because I was rushing to get it out) and she called me on it. So, because of her, you now have a much better, more perfect chapter. I hope you can forgive us. **

**In retribution (sort of) for delaying this chapter, there will be a THIRD chapter lol. BUT I PROMISE THAT'S ALL lol. A specific image inspired this entire story, and it will show up next chapter. That is all lol.**

**I highly recommend you listen to Billie Holiday's More Than You Know while reading this. Seriously.**

**http:/ /www .youtube .com /watch?v=FmkBst1cixI (remove spaces)**

**I own nothing but the plot.**

It was a chilly October evening. Magnus had made it through the day without becoming ill, for once. He had been prone to do that when he let thoughts of Alec creep in too far. It gave him immense anxiety, and he couldn't help emptying what little stomach contents he had throughout the day. He'd managed to go four days in a row now without an episode. He figured he was getting better. Not better at living without Alec, but better at handling the day to day.

He climbed the stairs to his small campus apartment in the ever-present numb haze that occupied his brain nowadays. He was close to graduating, and he was trying his damnedest to focus on his studies, and not on how much he missed those clear ocean eyes piercing into his own. Upon walking through the door, he let it shut behind him, and threw himself backwards against the thin wood sliding down to the floor. He sometimes did this when the day was particularly taxing trying to keep up the façade of nonchalance. After all no one actually knew what had gone on between him and Alec, besides Isabelle. No one knew his heart was aching for a soldier that wasn't coming home.

He slid his head down into his hands, and gave one gut-wrenching sob. He didn't have anything else in him to give. His voice had grown hoarse with tears combined with disuse otherwise. He sat there on the floor, heaving and letting the tears soak the knees of his pants where his head was pressed into them.

After what seemed like days, he peeled himself up and staggered to the living room. He didn't need to look at the record already sitting on the player to know what it was. It had been there for days. It was what he fell asleep to, on the couch, every single night for months now. He flicked the needle down into the grooves, and waited for the melody to start. It was Billie Holiday, which always reminded him of the night of their first kiss. But this was far different from Pennies From Heaven.

_More than you know, more than you know_

_Man of my heart, I love you so_

_Lately I find, you're on my mind_

_More than you know_

He shuffled to the banquette along the wall as Billie's sweet voice began to fill the tiny living room. He wrenched open the cabinet at the bottom, pulling out his sleep aid of choice. Bourbon was the only way he achieved any semblance of a normal sleep schedule. He never drank enough to knock him out, but he did consume enough to bring back the numbness long enough for him to slip away as Lady Day serenaded him with a song that felt like it came from his own heart.

_Whether you're right, whether you're wrong_

_Man of my heart, I'll string along_

_I need you so_

_More than you'll ever know_

_Loving you the way that I do,_

_There's nothing I can do about it_

_Loving may be all you can give,_

_But Honey, I can't live without it_

He stood idle on the worn rug in front of the couch, his suspenders hanging at his thighs and his collar open. He took a long pull from the rocks glass in his hand, making a rather large dent in the contents. He looked down at the now half-empty glass. He was so fed up with everything. How was it that one could find pure, unadulterated happiness one moment, just to have it snatched away by pure evil the next?

He placed the glass to his lips and snapped back the rest of the liquor, then went to pour himself a second glass. He watched the amber liquid pour smoothly into the crystal, willing himself to be that flexible. He wanted to be able to conform to new surroundings, new situations like his liquor could. He wished to be molded into some shape of his former, pre-Alec self, as the bourbon could be coaxed into the glass.

_Oh, how I'd sigh, how I'd cry_

_If you got tired and said goodbye_

_More than I can show_

_More than you'll ever know_

As the instrumental section picked up, he sipped slowly, savoring the burn in his throat and the tingle in his lips. If he imagined hard enough, he could feel that spark he once lived off of. Alec's sweet lips brushing against his own always pulled electricity into the air between them, only to be sucked up by the deepening of the contact. How he longed to kiss those lips again, to feel the life in them. Those lips were the only thing that could breathe their life into his tattered soul.

_Remember that, and keep my heart safe inside your soul, for I am empty here, having left it with you._

The line from Alec's last letter pierced into him. Another pair of tears created tracks down his tanned cheeks, and one fell into the glass. It must be true, he thought. Alec's heart was still with him, and that was how Magnus was even alive. For there was no way in hell his own heart was still beating. He downed his second glass of bourbon, and placed it back on the banquette. He slumped down onto the cracked leather of the camel-colored couch, and pulled out another letter. He read over how Alec had been moved from his post in Warsaw to fly bombers over Germany in an attempt to desecrate their fuel industry. This was from May of '44; He talked later of how ruthless the Germans were, but how he was hearing that the Russians were advancing on all their fronts. Magnus usually didn't much care for battle talk. He skimmed through other letters, to lines that wrenched his heart and had, at one time, put a huge smile on his face each time he read them.

_The cold here is penetrating. Not just in weather but in morale. The only thing that keeps me going is your warmth. I feel it at night, when I can't sleep. I feel your fingers comforting my frozen nerves. These thoughts of the future keep me fighting. Fighting to get home to you._

Now, as he read them, he couldn't help the psychotic sneer that slid across his face at the irony. Alec _was_ cold somewhere. Cold to the bone with death. For all Magnus knew, his body was scattered across the fallen industry of Germany, never to be found again—never to come home to Magnus. Billie started her song over again, and Magnus picked up another tattered page, reading Alec's elegant script.

_How I wish I could fall into your eyes again. Don't think me over-sensitive, dear. I'm just having difficulty coping with not seeing their elation, the brightness that enters whenever I catch their gaze._

Magnus also used to smile at this one immensely. In the second sentence, Alec strives to appear manly, but with the last word he takes on a sentiment that they'd never used before in each other's presence. It marked the first time Alec had ever called him anything like that. When Magnus had read it the first time, he read it a thousand times over to make sure his eyes, the orbs in question, were not being deceived. Now, it seemed, the pseudonym only brought sorrow instead of joy. He would never hear it from Alec's lips. Ever.

He read and read, his masochistic nature not letting him let go of the worn, parched paper in his hands. He relived most of 1942 through Alec's words, remembering where he was and what he was wearing while reading each one for the first time. It pained him so that he'd only have life to memorize the existing ones, for there would never be any more coming. Alas, he cherished every single one.

The hours passed with the swiftness of a gunshot, and with the lazy pace of molasses in winter. He looked up once, and noticed it was now three in the morning. Where had the night gone? No matter. It was Friday night and he didn't have class in the morning. His bourbon, it seemed, was going to fail him tonight. He gazed down at the paper in his hand.

_If you take nothing else from my letters, take this: your happiness is my endeavor. I will do everything in my limited power to see that you are happy. And, because I must see your happiness for myself, I must return to you. This is my solemn promise. _

_I will return to you. Do not forget me, for you are always with me. _

_I love you. _

A loud rap roused Magnus from a doze he didn't know he'd slipped into. The letter still rested on his knees, and his head had fallen on the back of the couch. At first, he thought he'd just imagined it; but, the sound of the knock came again. It echoed through the living room, interrupting the static coming from the otherwise now silent record player. Who on earth, Magnus wondered idly, could be calling on him at—he glanced at the clock on the mantle again—a quarter to four in the morning?

Deciding to best tell the late caller that he was trying to sleep (not entirely a lie) and that he should scram, Magnus lifted himself slowly off the couch, letting the letter slide down onto the leather. He made his way to the door, pulled the chain off, and released the deadbolt. He turned the knob. As the door swung open, he didn't even look up to see who it was, his sleep aid all of a sudden hitting him with a slight headache. Irritated, he ran his hand through his sleek black hair and let his eyes fall to the ground.

"Look, mister. I don't want any trou—" but he stopped. The shiny black shoes in his line of vision were covered at the tops by a distinctly olive colored pair of slacks. They were pressed and crisp, but showed signs of Carolina dust at the hems. The shoes, on second look, bore the same signs. But there was no mistaking the color of the slacks.

So this was it. This was the messenger sent to inform him of Alec's death. To give him closure. He was almost afraid to look up and see that plain box in the man's hand. That plain box that held what was left of the love of his short life. But why would he visit Magnus? Wouldn't he go to the Lightwoods instead? Had Isabelle sent him here for some reason? The questions ran rampant in his mind.

Magnus forced himself to lift his head. He couldn't help that his eyes locked on the man's hands, which were empty, save for a grip on the handle of a ragged, overstuffed bag that was hanging at his side. One of those hands was wrapped in a white gauze bandage, looking pristine but mangled. Magnus' pale green eyes continued up and landed on the man's wide shoulders. It seemed that this man had donned the uniform at a point in his life where he was much smaller. The buttons across his broad chest were pulling slightly at the seams, as if the fabric could barely contain the muscular form. The man was large, but not intimidating. Well, he wasn't even _that_ big. But Magnus figured he evaluated everyone against Alec's slight frame by habit.

Without thinking, he lifted his eyes all the way to look the man in the face. All the breath left his lungs.

Blue. Blue. All he could see was blue. The blue that was the color of destiny.

He simply wouldn't believe it. It was too impossible. This person in front of him was not the 18 year old boy in his mind's eye. For one, he was huge compared to Magnus' mental image. And the lines on his face hadn't been there before. Neither were the scar over his right eye and the bump on his nose, where it had undoubtedly been broken and healed. But the eyes…the eyes didn't lie. They were that steady ocean blue, staring into his own stunned green as if they could see into his soul. The pale lips below them had yet to speak a word.

Magnus stared in complete shock for what must have been a full minute before he found his voice, shattering the silence.

"Are you real?" he whispered, afraid to move or the image would vanish. Was he asleep? Did he actually imagine this knock at the door and was now dreaming that his every hope and every wish for the past four years had come true? But the man before him didn't answer the question. Later, Magnus would wonder if he even heard it.

"Magnus?" came a raspy voice that held none of the innocence it once did. However, it wasn't off-putting, and it sounded familiar deep within. Magnus was startled by the loud thud of the bag being dropped to the ground, but he didn't look away from the blue.

He felt rough fingertips ghost over the still-wet skin of his cheeks. He sucked in a strangled breath, the world vibrating around him all at once at the feel of those warm hands framing his face. "Magnus, what happened to you? Are you okay?"

He wondered for a moment what that could mean. Sure, he'd had less to eat lately, and what he did eat he couldn't keep down. He'd noticed his clothes fit a little looser, but that wasn't that noticeable to others, was it? In the mirror, he'd noticed his face was a bit sharper, but again who would notice things like that? However, as he thought more about it, wasn't he doing the same thing? They hadn't seen each other in four years. It was easy to catch subtle differences, comparing the present with the image from the past in your mind.

"I'm sorry," Magnus said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for. Not looking his best for this moment, perhaps. He was having difficulty forming words, feeling those hands on him, gently smoothing over his tear-stained cheeks. "I…I just…"

And suddenly, it was just too much. He felt his knees give out and could feel himself plunging toward the ground. Before he could slide any further, he felt strong arms wrap around his waist, holding him up and pulling him close. Magnus wrapped his arms around his visitor's neck, holding on for dear life. His legs were not going to hold him anymore. He finally let ten months…no, _four years_ of tears fall, soaking the shoulder of that pristine uniform. The biceps, which had grown much bigger than they used to be, held him tight against the rock hard chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he sobbed, clutching at the thick wool fabric. The next words uttered into the night knocked the breath out of him again.

"Dear," Alec said. "I promised."

Magnus looked up, not loosening his grip on Alec's neck for fear that he would still collapse to the ground. Their eyes met with renewed fervor, only a couple of inches apart.

"And I should have done this four years ago."

A beat of silence passed between them, and then Alec placed his lips on Magnus'. The spark erupted as if it had never died. Their lips moved together, brushing and caressing. When Magnus felt the tip of a tongue graze over his bottom lip, he opened his mouth on instinct, automatically. The feel of Alec's soft, wet muscle entering past his teeth and running over the roof his mouth sent Magnus' soul soaring. It was almost too good to be true, but here he was, flesh and blood and passion, returned to him after so many years and months of uncertainty.

As his knees grew ever weaker, Magnus felt himself slipping again. Alec's strong arms relinquished their grip on his waist, sliding down over his backside. Those massive biceps flexed, pulling Magnus up. Thankful for the help because he simply couldn't stand anymore, he wrapped his legs tight around Alec's waist. Their lips never tore apart, and Magnus sighed in complete contentment as his soldier carried him inside.

**So I hope none of you want to kill me anymore? *smiles***

**Okay, I just have to say this. I never thought this story would impact people the way that it has. I've talked to some of you through review replies and you've told me how this story/the subject matter has affected you and I just want to say that I'm truly touched. I cried reading some of your reviews. And those who I haven't replied to yet, I'll get to you I promise. Love you all.**

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT! The wonderous supermegafoxyawesomehot FlyAwayDreams made a gorgeous graphic for this story. I'll post it on my profile, please please check it out. It made me cry it's so prettyful. **


	3. The Price for Silence

**And here we've come to the end of this beautiful story. (Well, sort of, lol) I know I promised this chapter would be the last, and it is. But I will be posting an epilogue immediately after I post this, so you get a little bit more of this Magnus and Alec. I hope you've enjoyed this, and I'll have a thank you at the end of the epilogue. Here you go, guys and dolls.**

**Beta'd/Pre-read/Perfected/etc. by StarryOwlEyes, who is made of equal parts Sunshine and Awesome. **

**I don't own the characters, just the plot. I guess I should say I don't own WWII either.**

**The flashbacks in this chapter are out of order, but not to where you can't follow the sequence of events. They're remembered out of order.**

**WARNING: Since this is told from Alec's POV, there are some images in this chapter that may be difficult for some people. I tried to write them in such a way that they come across as real, yet not so callous that they are too gory for readers. Though, I must admit, I'm a Forensic Sciences minor and I spend my days looking at pictures that make most people gag and vomit, so my judgment may be a little skewed. So, you've been warned, just in case. **

Alec couldn't get over how distressingly ragged Magnus looked. As they sat on the couch in Magnus' small living room, the soldier couldn't take his eyes off his lover's face. His fine-boned aristocratic features used to have a softness that Alec longed to touch for hours. Now, they seemed so much sharper, the softness having sunken in with time. Compared to his mental image, Alec thought Magnus looked positively starved. He wondered if his love had fallen on hard times while he was away, which would be understandable considering the war. However, a quick glance around disproved that theory. His home was neatly and comfortably furnished, and—he noticed with a little trepidation—the open liquor cabinet was well stocked. Could there be another, more sinister explanation for Magnus' sunken condition?

He couldn't help mentally comparing his once lively Magnus to the small, desperate faces he'd seen in China. Children who hadn't eaten in days, who lived off whatever they could scrounge. Yet, like those children, he could see a vibrancy that was hidden deep beneath the agony. It was a tiny, almost insignificant flare of light that was fighting its way up from the depths of a defeated soul. In Magnus' celery-green eyes, a fluke of nature considering his heritage, he could see that flare flickering like a dying sunset, on the verge of passing into the horizon for the last time. He made it his internal vow to make sure that sun rose again. It was a new day in their lives now, and he'd fought his hardest to get back to this.

"How are you?" Magnus asked in a raspy voice when his tears had finally slowed enough. They sat close together, thighs touching and hands entwined, like they were afraid to let go lest the other disappear into a fictitious mirage. Alec just couldn't bear it if he woke up back on a cot in London.

"I'm here," was his answer. To him, that was all that mattered. He squeezed Magnus' frail fingers again. They were cold, having no insulation left to keep them warm. But Alec would take care of that. He would take care of Magnus for as long as he had to.

In the dim light, Magnus reached his free hand up and ran a delicate finger over the long scar across Alec's right cheek. It was healed over now, but the memory was still an open, seething wound.

_He bit down on his lip to keep himself silent as the rusty blade struck his cheek. His breathing was ragged and quick, but he remained steadfastly quiet. This seemed to piss the man off more._

_"Pretentious bastard! You'll speak when spoken to!" he said in his broken English. Although others in the room clearly outranked this man, he seemed to be the only one with any English skills whatsoever. He took orders in heated Japanese from the more decorated man behind him, but Alec suspected he put his own flair into the way he worded things. _

_Alec's answer to this statement was a defiant spit in the man's direction. They'd have to kill him first. He didn't figure they would, since he was their only line of communication with Allied forces. They still held Raphael, the tailgunner from southern California. However, Alec couldn't help but figure they'd given up on him, since he'd slipped into unconsciousness three days ago. Alec knew the man had a concussion the minute they stepped out of the wreckage, but he kept telling them all that he was fine. He now lay in the corner, quiet and still save for the miniscule rise and fall of his chest. The sleeve of his jacket that Alec had tied around his head to stop the flow of blood was still in place, now a sickening shade of orange as the blood soaked the olive green. _

"Alec?" The voice brought him back to the present, pulling him away from the memory.

"Hmm?" he replied sofly.

"What happened to you?" Magnus asked with quiet intensity. The pity in his eyes was unmistakable, but it didn't bother Alec in the least. It came from a place of sorrow and longing. At Alec's hesitation, he added, "Whatever you want to tell me," he said slowly. "All of it or…none of it, if it's too much…" he trailed off, staring into Alec's eyes with the intensity he remembered on the first day they'd met. Alec had replayed that day and others over and over in his head countless times. More so during the two months he'd spent alone inside his own head.

"I…Well…suffice it to say that I had a few complications in China during the summer," he said hesitantly, choosing to address the scar Magnus had his attention on. Those green eyes sparked in interest and fear. Alec couldn't stand the fear, so he tried to control his voice as he went on. "A few of the other pilots and I, the ones from the camp at the border in Poland, we…uh…we were assigned to retrieve some of the R.A.F. troops and equipment that had sought sanctuary in northern China after escorting the bombers over Germany." He took a deep breath, still trying to control the memories threatening to make his voice shake. "We knew that…that region was unoccupied by the Japanese at the moment. Well, that's what we thought anyway. We only took four planes. All fighters, just in case we ran into some Nazi planes along the way. You never knew," he said with a shrug. "Plus, we didn't take bombers because we weren't really on a destructive mission. It was supposed to be 'zip in, zip out, get the hell back here'." He paused here, slowing down his speech because the memory had heated up. He tried to gain control of his psyche, but he couldn't help reaching up unconsciously and running a finger down the now mangled bridge of his nose.

_As soon as he heard the transmission from his wingman telling him there were Red Suns on the six, he felt the entire plane lurch with the weight of the first hit. He wasn't entirely expecting it yet, so his body didn't have time to brace itself. He faceplanted into the control panel, causing his vision to blur and blood to pour from his nose. _

_"Shit! Shit shit shit!" was all he could scream into the radio. The plane lurched again as Alec tried to right the rudder, but it fell out of alignment still, since he couldn't get his right eye to focus. His head began to pound, since he'd had the bridge of his nose shoved into it. _

_"You okay Lightwood?" he heard from below. "We're gettin' a little thrown around down here!"_

_"Can't see a damn thing! Pardon my fucking driving!" he yelled back. "I'm only gettin' shot at by Japs!"_

_"Oh really? Hadn't noticed!" came the reply. Sebastian and Eric were down in the nose, presumably attempting to load and fire back. He could hear Raphael behind him, already locking and firing at the dirty bastards. _

_But hell was upon them. It was four against more than a dozen. They must have seen them coming and threw together an anti-aircraft mission. It was saddening and laughable that their little group would be so quickly raped to oblivion by some thrown together Japs in half fueled fighters. But Alec was never one to go down without a fight. _

_"You're about to get thrown again! Better grab somethin'!" he yelled out. He didn't give them but about five seconds before he barrel rolled around and dropped the altitude in one quick flash. He heard endless cursing coming from below, but he ignored it. He maneuvered around, righting the aircraft. He'd come up under and now behind two Red Suns. He waited for Seb and Eric to do their thing. He braced against the wheel and felt the plane shudder as they fired from the nose. He saw one Jap go down almost instantly, which alerted its companion. _

_The enemy swooped off to the left, leaving Alec trailing. That pissed him the hell off, so he jerked and followed with ruthless abandon. He could still hear Raphael firing in the back, and he hoped to whatever god there was above them that they didn't run out of ammo. They hadn't brought much, certainly not a destructive mission's worth, and certainly not enough to fight off a dozen Japs. _

_He'd been listening in to the rest of his group via the radio, and he heard confirmation of his fears of the inevitable. He and his crew were now joined by only one other Allied plane. Half their group was gone. However, between the four of them they'd managed to level the playing field before then. It was now two against two, a chicken fight in the air. _

_It took 16 rounds, but Seb and Eric managed to clip the wing of one, sending it plunging to earth. The remaining Jap lined Alec up in his sights, nose to nose. They went at each other in an all out sprint, the nose guns firing with all they had, but they still couldn't hit him. He maneuvered so swiftly, Alec couldn't keep up. So, Alec made a daring move, trying to put himself back in line with his enemy. But in the end, it pushed the engine too hard, and he lost the right propeller. The entire plane swerved to the right, off-balance. Alec just knew they were done for. But it seemed at the last second, their enemy decided to go a different direction. In the haze of smoke and his still blurred vision, Alec watched as his last remaining companion spiraled to the ground in a trail of black smoke. He only had a second before the enemy turned back on him and fired from behind. _

_It all happened in a flash. Raphael was still firing away in the back, and all of a sudden Alec saw flames bellow out from the corner of his eye. But it wasn't them. Raphael had hit the Red Sun dead on, blowing the engines. Alec almost leaped for joy, trying to restrain himself and keep his own plane alight. The enemy fell from the sky, and Alec turned just in time to see their nose gun fire one last time. _

_Disaster. _

_It hit his left wing, thoroughly destroying his remaining propeller. They'd lost a lot of altitude during the fight, and due to having one working propeller for the past five minutes, so they weren't very far up. He had minimal time to think what to do about his crew and himself before they met the earth. He saw they were approaching a small ravine that flared out into a tiny lake in the distance. Alec prayed to everything that their momentum got them there._

_"Get up here! Get out of the nose!" he screamed. Like lightning, he saw Sebastian's face pop up. He came up slowly, seeming to be carrying a load. He worked his way up into the middle belly of the plane, tiredly dragging Eric with him. Eric looked conscious, but fleeting. _

_"I don't think he's gonna make it! The bolts blew in on us!" Sebastian said, though he still dragged his partner into the most stable area of the aircraft. "Raph! Get up here!" he yelled behind him. _

_Meanwhile, Alec was pulling hard on the wheel, trying desperately to level out in time. It looked like they would make it. In the last few seconds, he jerked back with all his might, the muscles in his arms refusing to give up. He hoped his crew were bundled in the belly, and he braced himself against the control panel. The bottom of the nose hit the water at blinding speed. _

He felt a hand on his cheek, giving a small jerk. He hadn't noticed his eyes were clenched shut. He willed the memory away, angry at himself for bringing that terrified look into Magnus' eyes.

"I…I'm sorry," he said. But Magnus was already shaking his head.

"Please, Alec. Don't think of it if it makes you upset," he pleaded, stroking Alec's cheek as if he were a child that needed comforting.

"No, I guess I have to deal with it sometime," he returned, reaching up and covering Magnus' hand with his own. But that was the wrong thing to do. It called Magnus' attention to that hand; he couldn't deny it.

Magnus clasped it gently with his own, staring down at the pristine white bandage that now served no purpose other than to appease Alec's own weakness. He could tell Magnus wanted to ask. After all, the wrongness of it was unmistakable at closer glance.

"After…ah…after we landed…the Japs nearby captured us. Come to find out, the area _was_ occupied. The men we'd come to rescue were long dead by the time we got there. We'd headed into a suicide mission. We couldn't blame our superiors; the Japanese are amazing secret-keepers. They couldn't have known."

"Oh, baby…" Magnus whispered. It was the first time he'd said something like that. Alec supposed it came from the same place that 'dear' came from in him. It was a sign of complete affection.

"They tried to interrogate us, but…" he trailed off.

He stared into pale green eyes with all the love in the world. But still, even those eyes couldn't keep the memory away.

_Raphael had passed a week ago. His body still lay in the corner of their prison cell, the smell of decay permeating the air. Alec was the last one left. Eric hadn't survived the landing. They'd run Sebastian through with a thin sword after he'd shot off his smart mouth at them. Raphael had slipped into unconsciousness soon after they'd been thrown into the cell. He'd eventually died, leaving the pilot all alone in this hell hole._

_Every single day, their captors came and interrogated him, wanting to know about supplies and ammunitions deliveries, strategies and the like. But Alec had not said a word. His voice had not emitted a sound since the enemy captured them. It had been a solid month since he'd attempted to safely land a doomed plane in a shallow lake in China. He was chained to the floor like an animal, given only a spoonful of dry rice whenever they felt like it. But the food had stopped a few days ago. They wanted him to talk._

_Today, they came in spatting at him with renewed rage. Alec knew instinctively one day they would kill him. They would simply get fed up with his silence and do away with him. _

"_Does he feel like talking today?" said the one man who seemed to know English. As usual, Alec remained stoic. He'd never give up his country or his allies, and they were going to have to learn that sooner or later. At his silence, as though still surprised, the man slapped him across the cheek. Alec bit down on his lip, but didn't even utter a groan. They were going to have to do better than this. "Well, let's see how he feels now. We shall apply some leverage, yes?" the man said. _

_He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a four inch paring knife. He twirled it in his hands for a second, taunting Alec. He picked up Alec's hand that was shackled to the floor, placing it up against the wall. He leveled the blade over Alec's pinky finger, barely grazing the skin. _

"_Does he want to speak now?" asked the man. As always Alec's mouth uttered nothing. He just looked at the man with the most defiant expression he could muster. "Very well then."_

_And then, without giving Alec any time to think, the man lifted the blade and sliced it through the air, hacking the flesh clean off. Alec couldn't help the piercing scream of agony that ripped from his lungs as he no longer felt his finger attached to his hand. _

"_So that's what his voice sounds like, eh?" the man cackled. Alec didn't think before he brought his free hand up and clocked the man across the face, sending him flying. All of a sudden, there were seven guns pointed at him, ready to fire. Alec just stared down the barrels, waiting for death to come quickly and thinking of his beloved Magnus back home, whose image would go with him to the afterlife. _

_The English speaking man, however, put his hand up to stay them. He told them something in angry Japanese, and they lowered their guns and walked out. The man turned back to him._

"_You'll regret that," he sneered. He walked out of the cell, slamming the bars behind him. Alec looked down at his mangled hand and was ill from the sight. He lie back and his eyes slipped shut, willing the world away. He welcomed visions of green eyes and tanned cheeks, the feel of soft wet lips pulling him away into oblivion._

"I don't remember much after that. I woke up about two weeks later in a London hospital. They told me Japan had surrendered after we bombed the shit out of them," he said.

"Is that where you've been the past two months? London?" Magnus asked quietly. He gingerly ran his hands over the place where Alec's smallest finger used to be on his right hand, like he was afraid to touch it. Alec couldn't blame him.

"Yes," he answered. "I'd contracted quite an infection, and they kept me under tight watch. The man hadn't actually taken all of the finger, but it was so infected that the English doctors had to bring it down to the knuckle to take away the bad tissue." He cringed at his hand. "It's actually more or less healed now. I just leave the bandage on because…I just can't…stand to look at it," he said, hanging his head like the coward he was.

"Hey, hey" Magnus intoned, picking up his chin and lifting Alec's blue eyes to meet his own. "It's okay."

This time, it was Alec's turn to break down. He had kept all this at bay for some time now, pushing it down in order to regain his sanity. The doctors in London cared for his wounds, yes, but mostly they were charged with enabling him to re-enter society. Every time he'd seen someone with remotely Asian features, he'd back into a corner and shake uncontrollably. It was agonizing, not feeling okay with his surroundings. He used to be so brave and proud, and here he was reduced to a shaking mess. It had taken the full two months to get him to be comfortable to be around people other than his companions in the hospital. He wasn't in a place in his mind where he felt like he would relapse, but it was a lot to remember at once. Painful.

So he cried into the shoulder of Magnus' linen shirt while the man he'd held on for held on to him and stroked his back comfortingly. Magnus let him go on for a few minutes before he spoke again, after Alec's tears had slowed.

"Alexander," he said calmly, but Alec could tell there was trepidation in his voice. He lifted his head to look at Magnus. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Magnus," he said with conviction.

He hesitated a good minute before he went on. "Why…" and his eyes looked as though they were about to spill over again. He took a deep breath and looked Alec straight in the eyes. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

The question struck Alec as preposterous. Why on god's green earth would he be _afraid of Magnus_? The thought was alien to him.

"Why in the world would I be afraid of you?" he asked incredulously.

"Alexander. Look at me," Magnus said. As if it should be obvious. "People here, who have never even been face to face with a Japanese soldier who wants to kill them, they're afraid of me. They avoid me. I don't even care anymore. But you? You have more reason than anyone." He continued staring in Alec's eyes as though searching for the saneness that the question should ignite.

Alec was still shocked that Magnus would think such a thing, but he could now see what he meant. But, to be honest, the thought of Magnus' face was all that helped him get through his ordeal. The war itself, the capture, the hospital, everything. He could never be afraid of the one thing that ever brought him comfort throughout the past four years of his life.

He clasped both of Magnus' hands in his. "Magnus, I was in deep. I thought I'd never, ever get out of there alive. I knew they were going to kill me; it was only a matter of time. And all through that time, the only thing that kept me going, kept me _silent_, was you. Your eyes, your face, your lips. I thought about you every single day. And I knew that if there was even a sliver of a chance that I could survive this, then I had to fight. Magnus I fought tooth and nail. I fought so damn hard for one thing, and one thing only: to see your face again. Magnus, you…you're everything to me. Isabelle, my parents, Jace…" and he paused here, the misery threatening to creep in again, "I love them because they're my family. But I love _you_ because you're my everything. I don't care if the rest of the world thinks it's dirty, or sick, or wrong. You, Magnus, are the most _right_ thing in my life, and I'll be damned if some stupid power-tripping Jap is going to take that away from me." When he finished, he was almost out of breath. Magnus was looking at him with glistening eyes, and he couldn't hold back anymore.

Alec pressed his lips to Magnus' slowly but firmly. He tried making up for four years of lost contact, pulling against the back of Magnus' neck as his lover sighed into his mouth. This was what home felt like. All that time that he thought about how he couldn't wait to get _home,_ this is what he meant. Their lips slid over each other, pulling from them the moans and sighs they'd waited to rekindle.

When they pulled apart for a moment, Magnus muttered into the space between them. "Alec, don't you need to get home to your family?" He looked up at Alec through thick black lashes.

"I will. Tomorrow," he said softly, placing another kiss on Magnus' waiting lips. "I walked ten miles from the train station to spend tonight with you." Another kiss, this time trailing the tip of his tongue across Magnus' swollen bottom lip. The kiss was tentative, slow, cautious. Not at all like their first at the door.

Magnus responded, letting his lips fall open and welcoming Alec in. They shifted on the couch, moving so that Magnus was almost sitting on Alec's lap, their kisses growing deeper. Magnus' hands wandered, as they always did, to Alec's hips. It was like slipping back into a rhythm they'd never forgotten. They'd never gone farther than caressing erogenous zones through fabric, but Alec could feel the heat building. It didn't help when Magnus dug his fingers into the flesh at his hips, letting a soft moan escape his throat in unison. Alec was overcome; passion penetrated his every nerve. There was a reason he'd survived the hardship of the past four years. This was the man of his life.

Without thinking, letting his body control itself, his hands ghosted tentatively down from Magnus' neck to rest on the fabric over his collar bone. The first button of his shirt was already undone, and Alec's fingertips brushed smooth, tanned skin. They both sighed into each other. With little hesitation, he popped the next button open. Magnus didn't seem to notice, being all wrapped up in the kiss. But then, as the next button came loose, Alec felt Magnus' whole body tense. He sucked in a breath, tensed up, and pulled away from Alec a fraction, all in one instant.

Alec immediately felt ashamed. "God! I'm…sorry…I…Do you want to stop? We can stop…" he rambled, looking down in shame.

After a few seconds, in which time Magnus had not moved a muscle, Alec dared to look back up. Magnus had his lower lip between his teeth, chewing incessantly. But, as Alec watched, he could almost see the pieces clicking into place behind those pale green eyes.

Magnus shook his head a tiny, tiny fraction. "No," he whispered. Alec gave him a fleeting, questioning look. "I don't want to stop," Magnus clarified, still in a timid whisper, but staring back with such intensity that Alec thought he might faint.

"Magnus—" he began, hearing the hesitation in his lover's voice. His eyes spoke differently, however. They were sure as the tide.

"Alec," Magnus intoned, coming closer to rest their temples together. "I love you. And I want…" he took a deep breath, letting the shivering exhale wash over Alec's ear. "I want you to make love to me," he said quietly. Alec let the desperate, pleading tone of that statement pull him through his next series of actions. Slowly, their temples still pressed together, he released the rest of the buttons on Magnus' shirt. When he was done, he led Magnus' shaky hands to the thick wool of his olive dress jacket, and placed them on his chest. Those long fingers smoothed over the fabric, his left hand sliding up to brush over the pair of brass wings above Alec's pounding heart. Then, they began their descent, pulling the brass buttons loose one by one.

When they were both clad in only thin white undershirts and too tight pants, Alec used his massive arms to once again lift Magnus like he weighed nothing. He'd grown so slight since Alec had seen him last, but he tried not to think about that. Magnus wrapped his legs around his waist like he did the first time, and Alec carried them to the bedroom. He lay Magnus down on the bed as gently as possible, his legs dangling over the side. Alec kicked his own shoes and socks off, and ran his hands longingly down Magnus' chest. When he reached the loose waist of his pants, he unbuttoned them and pushed them down Magnus' thighs, as his lover shivered at the new contact. They'd ever explored or touched each other like this, and it was electric. After Magnus leaned up to take off his thin white tank, Alec shed his own trousers and crawled up onto the bed to hover above him.

They maneuvered under the light bed sheets. Magnus reached down and lifted his hips, sliding his boxers off with a blush. He then pushed Alec's down to his knees, Alec kicking them the rest of the way off to get lost in the foot of the bed beneath the blankets. Magnus then reached to Alec's waist, grasping the hem of his undershirt and bringing it over his head. He tossed it to the floor, and Alec heard a gasp and saw Magnus jump a little bit.

He was about to ask what was the matter, but remained quiet. When his shirt was finally taken off, the chain that held his tags had swung free, the cold metal landing over Magnus' heart. Magnus' hand covered the two tags, holding them to his chest, the chain linking him and Alec together. Alec slowly lowered himself down to kiss his love's waiting lips again.

After a small jar of Vaseline was procured in the name of comfort, Alec tried his best to control his movements as he watched Magnus' eyebrows knit together in unmistakable pain. He slowed his forward movement, willing the ache to subside. He got a tiny nod from the man below him and pushed a bit further. This, however, only caused silent tears to emit and roll down Magnus' sharp cheeks, coupled with a small whimper.

"Shh, shh," he soothed, placing light kisses all over Magnus' face, kissing the tears away. He placed his forehead against his Magnus' and proceeded the rest of the way. They stayed like that for a good while before Alec got the courage to move. He was so afraid he'd hurt Magnus even more and he'd never want to do this again. Alec couldn't live without doing this, being this close and this intimate, again. It felt like the only way he could truly express how he felt to Magnus.

As they moved together, the only sounds were their sighs, their kisses, and the subtle clink of Alec's tags swinging back and forth. By the time they gave in to the deepest pleasure imaginable, the sunlight was bleeding in through the light blue curtains across the room. The bedclothes were a mess, and they were both sweaty and exhausted.

Magnus lay his head back on Alec's broad chest, Alec's fingers softly combing through his hair. "It's gotten longer," he said absently.

"Yes. It needs a barber," Magnus agreed. "I just never had the inclination, or the motivation to do anything about it."

"Well, that's first order of business today," Alec said. At Magnus' scoff, he chuckled. "_Later_ today," he corrected, and he heard Magnus smile as he snuggled closer into Alec's body.

"You know, this is the first time in almost ten months that I've been in this bed? I usually just sleep on the couch. I think I forgot how comfortable an actual bed could be," Magnus said.

"I think I helped…" Alec teased lightly. A sorrowful silence settled over them again.

"I just…I didn't have the will. Nor did I have the ability to sleep. Most of the time I had to drink to get sleepy, and I ended up always dozing on the couch. It became routine. It got worse after you stopped writing—"

"Magnus," Alec said with conviction, stopping him. He gave a gentle push, urging Magnus to let him up. He scooted off the side of the bed, walking nude into the living room to retrieve his duffel. He brought it back into the bedroom and set it on the floor. Rifling through it, he pulled out a large bundle, the twine holding it together fraying at the edges. He walked over and climbed back under the covers, both of them now sitting up side by side. He handed the bundle to Magnus.

"I never stopped writing you. Apart from the month that I was prisoner, I wrote you every single day. I knew one day I'd be able to send them. The post just got really bad in the spring of this year. It was damn near impossible for anyone to get word out from where we were. But I wrote to you, Magnus. Just like always." He scooted closer, pressing the sides of their bodies together as Magnus turned the pile of unread letters over in his hands. Alec could tell the tears were threatening to fall again. "I apologize for the ones from the past two months. They're a bit hard to read, since I had to learn to write without my…" and he lifted his injured hand.

"Oh, Alec. I don't care. I thought…I mean I…I don't know what I thought. I…I thought you were dead all this time. You could have been. And still, you took the time to talk to me, even though you couldn't send them?" He wasn't looking at Alec, but spreading out the stack and opening one up.

Alec stopped him by grabbing his hands, making him look up. "Magnus. You must learn to take my promises to heart. I told you, I _vowed_ to you, that my letters would always get to you. _Always_. So I kept them, to make sure that they did. I always keep my promises, dear," he added on to the end. The sentiment seemed to spur new life in Magnus once again. Alec was quickly getting addicted to that light in his eyes again.

The two ended up lounging the morning away. Magnus, being generally unwilling to part from Alec and a tad bit sore, refused to leave the bed. Late afternoon found them waking up from a doze in a sea of ink, paper, and envelopes scattering the bed.

**Okay, please review and tell me what you thought of this chapter! I'll have a longer note at the end of the epilogue in the next chapter. **


	4. Epilogue: The Great Fall

**Epilogue: November, 1989**

The television had been on constantly for the past few days, showing scenes of the people of East and West Berlin hacking and pushing at the once intimidating concrete and iron wall that divided them since after the war. The pictures from Germany were always colorful and full of joy at the reunion of the country. It represented a step forward.

Magnus Bane, 68 years old, lay across a brown leather couch in the dimly lit living room. The TV was turned down in favor of the stereo in the corner playing an Elvis cassette tape. Magnus had always liked Elvis for some reason. Alec said it was because the man was flashy and bold, which never failed to draw Magnus. But Magnus knew internally it was because he could never resist jet black hair and clear blue eyes.

Around Magnus, in piles separated by year, lay stacks and stacks of envelopes. Some open, some gently resealed only to be opened again in due time, they lay in a sort of fortress circle around him. He held a letter in his hand, eyes scanning over it for the hundred-thousandth time since he'd first received it. The words on the page never failed to make him smile, even if some of the recollections were sad. His take on it was that they'd survived that time, therefore they could survive anything. Alec's letters would forever be, next to Alec himself, his most prized possessions. They represented the undying power of love.

Often, these recollections came in handy in his lectures to his classes at the local college. Students had come to love his history class, and they always got excited when the lesson reached World War II. Kids today had sort of glorified and sensationalized the war, associating it with heroes of valor and bravery. That was all well and true, but he made sure to tell them about the tragedies and hardships the war caused, for the soldiers and here at home. He would recount the radio broadcasts and movie house newsreels of the day, trying to get them to understand what it was like, even though they never truly would. Once, to their immense delight, he brought another one of his extremely treasured possessions: Alec's dogtags. They were fascinated, as people often are, by an actual relic of the time. And on the next day, he had convinced Alec to come in and tell the story of what those tags had been through, leaving out the more gory details, of course. But nonetheless, the students were engrossed, and it proved to be the best lecture they ever heard.

Now, sitting here on the couch in their cozy home, Magnus read and re-read the letters that had never seen the post, the ones Alec had brought home himself. They were some of the darkest, but also some of the most hopeful. Their words were an indication of where they would go, what they would accomplish as intertwined souls, in the years to come. They still received ill looks when they walked the street holding hands, but it didn't matter. Things were changing, slowly but surely. And, in the end, Magnus could always find strength in the lines on these pages, if ever he should need it.

**There you have it. This was a joy to write (even though I cried most of the time), and I'm so glad that you all liked it.**

**As I said before, I'm truly amazed at how this story has touched people. Both my grandfathers served in WWII, Air Force. My dad and my uncle were also Air Force; they served in Vietnam. I also have a very, very good friend who is in the AF right now. So, I'm surrounded by it. Honestly (and I've told some of you this already), this story was to pay homage to the wonderful men in my life who've served. The choice to make Jace and Alec pilots was a sentimental nod to my grandfathers, dad, and uncle. My uncle made a career of the Air Force, and retired a Master Sergeant. I'm very proud of them all, and I'm glad I could honor them in my own way. **

**Also, I mentioned to some of you that Isabelle is sort of modeled after my aunt, who stayed home when her brothers went to war and helped fight the good fight on home soil. She went to work and helped my grandparents with the day to day while my dad and uncle were away. She's just as honorable as any veteran. **

**Thank you to all those of you who've shared your experiences with me that this story brought up for you. I truly enjoy them, and if you ever want to share, please PM me or message me on AIM/Tumblr. I'd love to hear from you.**

**My best to all of you, and this story did its original job as well…which was to cure my MLG writer's block. I'm diving back in and you guys will have a new chapter soon! All my love!**


	5. Alec's Letters 1942

**Hello everyone! Okay, so here's the deal: I had these sitting on my comp like, half finished, and I was always thinking "I'm pretty sure no one cares because all they are is sap and sadness and deranged lunatic-ness near the end, so I don't think people would read them." However, I was having trouble with MLG (which will be updated soon, today or tomorrow) and I said to myself "Self, go finish those letters and post them because people want anything from you at the moment!" So I did.**

**So here is the first year's worth. Obviously, this isn't the entire stock of them, since he wrote every day. But there are a few. They don't change much, just Alec longing to see his pretty man again. All kinds of love and sadness.**

**This is not beta'd, except read through real quick by me. I think it's better that way. If Alec misspells a few things, he's only human, right? He's having a rough time as it is. This way, it's more organic. :)**

* * *

><p>January 7, 1942<p>

It's cold here. I'm sorry if this is hard to read…I can't feel my fingers. I'll try my best.

I miss you so much already. It is funny how I was always afraid that one of these days, you'd realize how unworthy I am of your affections, and suddenly wise up and leave me be. As it turns out, I am the one who's abandoned you to loneliness. I chastise myself every single day for this, and one day I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I know you have the heart of an angel, because how else would it always be with me while I am here amidst this destruction, shining the only light into my life that exists at the moment?

I've made it my endeavor to return to you, more of a man than I left you. You deserve the best that the world can offer in all of your life, and I only wish that I come close. You are my entire life. You hold my existence in your hands. Knowing this, I know I am safe from the tyranny that surrounds me.

I love you.

* * *

><p>March 27, 1942<p>

We breached the line today, and we are now behind the enemy. I know this letter will not be able to get to you until we are safe at camp back across the border, but I'm writing nonetheless. There will never be a day that passes where I don't let you know that I am still here, still alive, and still wishing to return to your touch. Some might think that statement a blasphemy, but not to relish in the feel of your fingertips is a blasphemy against my heart. I know that to love you is forbidden, but I cannot go through my life without you. You have captured me completely, and whether I make it out of this hell or not, I will go to my grave swearing my allegiance to your soul.

I love you.

* * *

><p>June 15, 1942<p>

I'm sorry I cannot say much today. We are getting ready for a mission which I cannot disclose here. Do not worry, my only love. I shall return to you soon. It is looking like this might be our last mission here before we head back to England. From there, I will be able to get word to you quicker, and I may be able to send a few things back to you that I've acquired in my stay here.

A craftswoman in the village nearby asked me where the compass of my soul pointed. I thought it an odd question, for a moment. But then, suddenly, the answer was obvious. To a man more knowledgeable than the most learned professor, braver than the most valiant soldier, and more beautiful than all the hosts of Olympus. That was my answer. She nodded and told me that my compass will lead me to him soon, and this ugliness that surrounds us all will dissipate into the most gorgeous heaven, and that no one else will ever penetrate it save for the two of us. She said we will be together in this place, and that is certain. Then she gave me a wooden owl that she had fashioned out of scrap from the wreckage of a nearby building, bombed by the Luftwaffe. She said that the owl represented wisdom, the wisdom of one's heart to know its true bearing, even when its owner does not.

At the first chance, I shall send him flying home to you. He knows where my heart lies, and he will keep you safe while I am away.

I love you.

* * *

><p>June 16, 1942<p>

Our mission failed. We lost fourteen men and we are no closer to victory than we were yesterday. I am sorry, but my letters will be late again. I hope you can find it within you to forgive me. Our situation is dire. I cannot say more.

I love you.

* * *

><p>August 4, 1942<p>

I am thankful for the heat, as it helps warm my body. My heart remains warmed by your love. I know truly that you continue to wait for me, which is more than I could ever ask for. I only wish there was a way for me to read your words as you are able to read mine. But I know the post is monitored, and you do not know the rules of correspondence that we must adhere to. I only wish I could know that you are okay. I still hate myself for leaving you to fend off the world without me by your side, but you must know that I will return. I swear it on the heavens.

Every night I hear your voice, telling me I am the only one. I only hope this is true in your own thoughts. I long to be there, to tell you that no one else will ever penetrate my heart, my very being, like you have. When I return, I shall spend every moment in your presence, until I am called to the heavenly home.

I love you.

* * *

><p>December 31, 1942<p>

A new year is upon us. It is hard to believe I've been away from your beauty and your sweet laughter for so long. The ache in my heart has not lessened. If anything, it has grown. The distance and the fighting are taking their toll. We lost four more men today, one of them a very good friend of mine. He had a wife and son at home in Illinois, and I was charged with sending off his belongings to them. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, save for leaving you. It is my utmost endeavor that you never have to endure what they will. I will always be working to return to you. I will not rest again until I lay my gaze on your beautiful face. You are the light that guides me.

I love you.

* * *

><p><strong>So there you have it. A few snapshots of 1942. If this gets a good response, I might put up some from each year. If not, I'll just assume that I was right and no one really cares, lol. Love you all! See you for MLG!<strong>


	6. Very Important PSAAuthor's Note

Hello everyone!

First of all, I'm sorry if I freaked you out by posting this, since FFn will probably alert you and you'll think I've updated all these stories, but bear with me. I _AM _updating All's Fair in Love and Glamour in a bit, but I wanted to come here and give you guys a little explanation as to where I've been and what's happening with my fics now.

If you haven't heard, FFn has been doing a major purge of stories with explicit content. I don't know if you guys have noticed, but…_all_ my stories are explicit LOL. Inner Animal was deleted a few weeks ago without notice. So, in light of that, I've decided to move my entire fic archive over to a livejournal account specifically for my fic. There are several advantages to this, for me and for you. For one, for me it's a ton easier to upload chapters on the platform on LJ. FFn is very convoluted and it's kind of always been a hassle. Also, links are supported on livejournal, so now in my chapter updates I can link you guys to videos and/or songs straight from the fic page, instead of you having to youtube songs yourself, if you want to listen to them. Lots of other things are cooler about livejournal than FFn, and I hope you'll join me in enjoying the ease of use it has to offer over FFn.

Currently, only the Glamour stories are up on livejournal, but I WILL be putting every single one of my stories there in the near future. It's taken me this long to get it up and running because, well, the Glamour stories are huge and it took a lot of time to upload them all. (I think I've clocked it in somewhere around 32 hours total, but I can't be entirely sure. This on top of school and everything else, I hope you can understand why it's taken me so long and I hope you can forgive me.)

For those of you who don't already follow it, it would be a good idea to follow _**theglamourverse . tumblr . com**_, as I always post links to updates there, as well as a whole slew of extra stuff like pictures and character facts/headcanons and fanart and stuff. And, as I will no longer be posting to FFn at all, that is where you will be able to find me and talk to me. Always feel free to drop me an ask if you're confused about something or just want to talk! I always get back fairly quickly, provided I have the free time. You can also ask the Glamour characters questions on there, and submit headcanons of your own. It's fun stuff! You don't have to follow, but if you don't have an LJ account where you can get alerts for my updates, that's the only place you'll be able to find them.

So, to reiterate, I will no longer be posting updates to FFn in the future. I will leave my account open, so that those who have alerts or favorites on me can see this message if they aren't around right this moment. I want to thank all of you for your continued love and support (and general flailing that I am soooo not worthy of) as I've made this transition. I hope you continue to follow my stories, and feel free to talk to me! I don't bite! I've loved talking to those of you who've messaged me and asked me how I've been. It is beyond appreciated. Life gets in the way sometimes, and I'm glad most of you understand that.

So, here's to new beginnings! As I said, All's Fair in Love and Glamour Ch15 will be up as soon as Grace does her beta magic. _**I will provide the link to the new livejournal (where you will be able to find ALL my fics) on theglamourverse tumblr. There will also eventually be a link on the sidebar of that tumblr where you can find posts for my non-glamourverse fics (like Tutor!Alec and other one-shot-ish type things) when/if they update. On the livejournal, there will be tags for those. :)**_

Much true love for all of you,

Brooke


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